Angel of my Nightmare
by BohemianTwinkle
Summary: He drinks without cause for celebration; birthdays seem to pass without a second glance.


**Author's note: **clears throat when you wake up in the morning and who you thought you were isn't what you think you are anymore and you have to rethink and remodel and re-find everything again...go back to sleep.

I find it impossible to write a normal authors note.

**Disclaimer:** The song 'I miss you' belongs to Blink 182.

**

* * *

**

_Hello there, the angel from my nightmare  
the shadow in the background of the morgue  
_  
He has woken from dreams of black and white, charcoaled memories faded and etched into the walls of his mind, and seen her watching him through the window. Blue stained eyes and perfect features, she could be forever if she wanted, she could live in a castle on a cloud. But instead she sticks right by him, in sleep and fitful consciousness she watches him trying to make out her figure through grey eyes so scratched and torn from grieving.  
  
_The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley  
we can live like Jack and Sally if we want  
where you can always find me  
_  
These dreams are blurred from start to finish because he's ruined, lost his coloured imagination brilliance, and he's done it by his own doing. There's heartbreak in his voice and sullen movements, you could find him staring at the stars on winter's closing. His shadow passing sombrely past the moon, crying without a single sound, he's such a tragedy without a hope of solace or serenity. There's nothing the Gods can do but love and pity him and perhaps feel guilty for taking away the only thing he wanted.  
  
_We'll have Halloween on Christmas  
and in the night we'll wish this never ends  
we'll wish this never ends_  
  
He drinks without cause for celebration; birthdays seem to pass without a second glance. He lies in bed at night and hopes the morning never comes; he hopes the moonlight will wash over him forever and the sun become non- existent. The nighttime is a dark place where all his hidden thoughts can roam free along the streets – if he only had some – but all he does is cry silently and frown and ache, because all he does is miss her.  
  
_(I miss you, miss you)  
(I miss you, miss you)  
Where are you and I'm so sorry  
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight_  
  
He has lost the knowledge on how to move his fingers across the round platform typewriter keys. The machine produces no comfort, it used to take him somewhere out of sight but now it's only a reminder. Of another time, another place that's passed to a place that's locked and bolted. She used to force his fingers over the keys until he kept his promise, but perhaps her haunting him just makes it worse because he needs her alive and with him always.  
  
_I need somebody and always  
this sick strange darkness  
comes creeping on so haunting every time_  
  
He lives by the luminance of a fairy, teasing and revealing she showers him with illusions that buries and covers up the truth with green stitched patches. He drinks enough for the holograms to last all night, his sick and sparkly reverie that paints the red lines across his eyes. Always bloodshot, like the living dead that can still feel emotions, weeping tears of shiny pearls from deadened eyes, impossible to count them all.  
  
_And as I stared I counted  
webs from all the spiders  
catching things and eating their insides_  
  
There are vermin in his bedroom, splinters in the floor like severed limbs, decayed and uncared for like him. A disease that eats away his walls and floors, like the pain on his insides, hollowing out his bones and organs, until there's nothing left. Until there's nothing left but tears and blood – like all that she was left to die with.  
  
_Like indecision to call you  
and hear your voice of treason  
will you come home and stop this pain tonight  
stop this pain tonight_  
  
Sometimes it breaks out inside him, spreading like spilt paint across paper and makes him cry out with the remains of his tangled voice. A pain that has no beginning and no end to follow through, like it was always there. He can't remember what her skin feels like, he can't recollect the softness of her hair, she's a silhouette inside his head, a badly drawn outline.  
  
_Don't waste your time on me you're already  
the voice inside my head (I miss you, miss you)  
don't waste your time on me you're already  
the voice inside my head (I miss you, miss you)_  
  
Her music echoes through the hallways and the space between his ears, her laughter is like the sound of the liquid being poured into his glass. So he misses her some more. Time keeps moving on at is age old steady pace and his dreams are becoming more like grey moving shapes on a plain of black and white, her figure reaches out to him but it fades before he can touch. And he misses her some more. It's just not good enough for her to be there with him when he can't see or kiss her, when he can't hold or speak to her. So he misses her some more.  
  
_(I miss you, miss you)  
(I miss you, miss you)  
(I miss you, miss you)  
(I miss you, miss you)_


End file.
